A | B

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PART I

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JANUARY, 1780
4 YEARS LATER
ORANJESTAD, SINT EUSTATIUS
CARIBBEAN

“YE’RE GOIN’ ASHORE, JACK?” Lieutenant Smith asked, shocked when Celia swung from the deck of her ship and dropped into the dinghy already being rowed toward the docks.

“Shush. Solomon can’t know. He believes I am abed as he bade me.” She cast a glance between her first mate and her bo’sun. They were the only two occupants of the boat. “I’ll assume you two wanted away from a nosy crew.”

Bataar glared at her, and if Celia’s head were not throbbing like the very devil, she would have laughed. “If Solomon bade you rest,” she sneered, “then why are you here disturbing our liaison?”

“Aye,” Smitty agreed. Celia now could see he was equally annoyed with her. “I’d think a body’d rest after sailing through that last stretch of storms.”

It had been an incredibly long and difficult voyage from Portugal, after an incredibly long and difficult voyage from Virginia to London and on to Portugal—but for different reasons. Truthfully, she would like nothing better than to sleep, having already postponed her meeting with her partner until the morrow, but—

“Not this body,” she returned wearily.

“Then why … ?”

She gestured vaguely out to sea. “Dunham sailed into the bay two hours ago. I must make haste to go to Mohammed before Mohammed comes to me.”

Bataar sighed in sudden understanding. “Your mother. Does she know he has graced us with his presence?”

Celia grimaced. “Not yet. She’d have my head if I allowed him on board, yet I can hardly deny him. I sent a message for him to meet me at the Bloody Hound.”

“It’s been near five years. He must miss ye much.”

She slid Smitty a look. “He is not so sentimental as to cross the Atlantic for a visit with me, and he cannot possibly know Mama is aboard, so I’ll admit to some curiosity as to his reasons for being here.”

“More than one?”

“He does not do anything without he has six reasons at once, and certainly would not do such a thing as leave the Mediterranean without those reasons being very large ones.”

“An’ what’ll ye do when he requests a tour of the Thunderstorm? He hasna seen it.”

“I have not thought that far ahead, and I have a singular inability to lie to him. I shall have to arrange for Mama to go ashore somehow.” Celia’s head began to throb in earnest, and she rubbed at her temples. Certainly, she was happy to see the man, but why here? Why now? “Oh, God,” she groaned, closing her eyes and lying back in the dinghy. “Does it never end?”

“Perhaps,” Bataar said haughtily, “you should allow Fate to do what she will. It is not your concern.”

Celia could only groan again. “Do not make me think, Bataar. Your family concerns are a matter for all scholars of history to sort out, whilst I am alone between two—nay, three—warring factions.”

“They are adults. Stand aside and allow them to war.”

It was not long until the dinghy scraped the shoals. Smitty hopped overboard, up to his knees in the water to haul it close and tie it off. Celia climbed out even as he held his hand out to Bataar.

“I’m off,” Celia muttered. “My thanks for the conveyance.”

“We’re bound for the Bloody Hound as well,” Smitty admitted reluctantly as he laced his fingers in Bataar’s. “There is a quiet inn behind the courtyard, but we’ve yet to eat.”

“Mmm, I may avail myself of that. I could use—”

“CALICO JACK!”

“God’s blood,” she moaned again, but Smitty and Bataar both turned at Solomon’s bellow from behind them. Half the street’s denizens stopped and looked around. Soon enough her gunpowder supplier spotted and hailed her. “Four days hence!” she called to him. He nodded enthusiastically.

She was obliged to greet half a dozen people and arrange meetings whilst Solomon and another four of her officers fought through the crowd of drunken sailors and women to reach her and her companions.

“Cap’n Jack! Heads up!”

Celia’s head snapped to her right just in time to see a bottle flying toward her. “Praise be,” she said fervently, snatching it out of the air, pulling the cork, and tipping her head back to drink deeply. It was good, strong rum, and once she had poured a good quarter of it down her gullet, she saluted the man who’d tossed it to her. “Excellent, Distiller! One hundred barrels to the Thunderstorm. Come see me this week, as I have a Greek spirit for you to sample.”

“Many thanks, Cap’n!”

“We might as well have stayed on board,” Smitty muttered to Bataar.

“Speaking of that,” Celia said, feeling her headache fade with the alcohol and her mood lift as she graciously collected salutations and good wishes with every step she took. “Why do you not share a cabin as well as a bunk? I can find a use for a cabin that stands empty most of every day.”

“Well, Cap’n,” Smitty drawled snidely, “now that ye’ve made a spectacle of us, I ’spose there’s no need to keep us to ourselves.”

“Happy to help!” Celia chirped, suddenly amused, and waved at yet another acquaintance.

“Jack,” came Solomon’s ominous voice from just behind her.

“Oh, do not berate me. Dunham’s here.”

“I know and I had a plan to defuse the situation, but you did not stay long enough for me to inform you of it.”

She huffed at the dark Arab, who was clad in his preferred white silk tunic and pajamas, his bald head wrapped in more white silk that emphasized his black close-shaven beard. Her mouth twisted in thought. “Aye, well, now I’m here and he awaits and I find myself in dire need of food and more of this fine rum.” She took another swig. “That,” she pronounced with a satisfied smack of the lips, “is lovely.”

He grunted.

“Solomon,” she said, annoyed with his clucking. “I do not need my physician tagging after me.”

“I told you not to come ashore. If I cannot force you to your bed, I will cling to your heels like dog shit and follow you like its stench.”

“Solomon!”

His eyebrow rose. “Am I now under your command … Captain?”

Her jaw ground. “That was a mistake I’ll not repeat.”

He smirked.

“Oh, here we are,” Celia said, surprised they had arrived so soon. She looked over her shoulder to see that many of her crew had assembled behind her. “Do not get yourselves killed—and that’s an order. If I have to knock on hell’s door to drag you back to your posts, I will, and then I’ll flog you for putting me to the trouble.”

The lot of them laughed and wandered off.

“So, Jack,” Smitty drawled as they filed through the doorway, “now that ye’re the only body occupying your bunk, should I keep an eye out?”

Bataar laughed and Celia flashed the old salt a grin. “I’m not sure, Smitty. I married the last man you brought to me.”

“Oh ho! I should take up matchmaking, ye say?”

“You’ll not get my business, then. I have need of a procurer.”

“Jack,” Solomon growled, “there will be no procuring done on your behalf for the foreseeable future. If you test me, I will inform your mother.”

“We shall see about that,” Celia said archly. “I’ve not had a good tumble since before we made London. I am positively famished.”

The tavern fair crawled with pirates and privateers, most of whom she recognized. She cast around for Dunham, who sat in a back corner of the tavern holding court with Maarten Gjaltema, her sailing partner.

The last five years had aged Dunham aplenty, his long once-orange hair now almost completely white. His close-shaven beard was the color of new-fallen snow with not a patch of orange in sight.

She had been too busy to think about him much since he’d officiated her wedding, but she had missed the old man and was more than glad to see him. It shocked her how much she wished he had come here because he had missed her.

“HO, DUNHAM! HOLLANDER!” she bellowed, her hands cupped around her mouth.

“HO, JACK!” Dunham returned in the heavy brogue he affected in public. “Come aboard, Lass! Make room, lads. ’Ere comes me finest work.”

She made only a little stir as she worked her way through the writhing mass of male and female bodies. Whether she knew any particular individual or not, most everyone here knew her by sight or deed, and dare not offend her.

Except one.

It was not until she had made half her destination when she found herself pulled down into a hard, muscled lap and her mouth thoroughly kissed.

The man tasted of rum and cocoa.

Surprised, shocked, and so unexpectedly warmed as she looked into amused ice blue eyes, she ceased to think. She opened her mouth to let his tongue stroke hers, raised her hand to caress his rough, stubbled cheek. His body was big and strong, so she relaxed against him with a sigh, closed her eyes, tilted her head to get closer, and kissed him for a long moment.

She whimpered when he palmed one of her arse cheeks, caressing and squeezing—

—but no matter how beautiful his eyes, no matter how well he kissed, no matter how sweet he tasted, no matter how famished she was, allowing just any sailor to accost her so … publicly … would set an inconvenient precedent.

The point of her dagger just under his jaw convinced him to let her go.

He drew away from her carefully and Celia caught her breath. Never had she seen such a beautiful man in her life. Long silver-streaked blue-black hair, chiseled features, dark tan, good, white teeth—and those eyes!

“There are many ways you could have acquired my undivided attention for a night or six,” she remarked mildly after admiring his face and making no secret of it. “Mistaking me for a whore is not one of them.”

She slipped off his lap and sheathed her dagger as she walked away without a backward glance. She felt her wrist grasped and prepared herself. By the time he had swung her around to face him, she had drawn her cutlass with the unmistakable ring of battle, silencing the mob of people in the great room of the tavern. Her crew gathered behind her, as did the Hollander and the crew of the Mad Hangman, Dunham and her former shipmates from the Iron Maiden.

Other men gathered behind this beautiful stranger who had kissed her so well.

“Take—your—hand—off—me,” she growled, then whirled into his arms to drive the tip of her elbow into his breastbone and her thick boot heel down onto his instep.

The battle erupted with a roar, and she found herself in an unexpected sword fight with the man. Solomon and her crew, as did the two other crews, fought alongside her, outnumbering her opponent’s men two to one. Sword in one hand, dagger in the other, she was forced to fight better than she had ever fought before—even against her own master.

“Dunham!” she bellowed above the mêlée, “who is this bastard?”

“Judas,” the man himself snarled just before half the tavern shouted likewise. “My name is Judas and you’ll have reason to remember me, lady, never fear.”

“Oh, aye. I’ve heard of you,” she announced as she parried and thrust. “Little boys playing pirate.”

That seemed to infuriate him and he pressed her backward, raining strikes upon her faster and harder, forcing her to drop her cutlass and snatch her other dagger.

The pirate was brought up short by the Hollander’s sword point near his throat. “Well, now that you have met,” he said conversationally, his Dutch accent thick with amusement, “allow me the honor of the formal introductions. Anon, we can gather in Philadelphia for a ball my wife will be delighted to plan, and you may continue this dance there. Sans weapons. Fury, this is Judas, captain of the Silver Shilling. Judas, this is Fury, captain of the American privateer Thunderstorm, formerly the Moroccan corsair Carnivale. Most know her as Jack.”

That brought a glimmer of recognition to his face, but for her name or the Carnivale’s, she could not tell.

“Jack here,” Dunham murmured from Celia’s other side, “is me best student and I see you’ve near bested her, which is a feat. Jack,” he drawled, chastisement so heavy in his voice she grimaced. “Ye’re out of practice. Been lazin’ on yer laurels?”

“Aye, Cap’n,” she breathed, her chest heaving. “’Twill not happen again.”

“Judas, yer crew’s outnumbered. Ye might have bested Jack here—” Dunham shot her a disgusted glance. “—an’ he shouldna be able to do it again or I’ll know the reason why, Missy—but your crew be not so lucky. Turn an’ look.”

Indeed, the clash of swords had nearly ceased. Celia looked over her opponent’s shoulder and saw that between the crews of the Thunderstorm, the Iron Maiden, and the Mad Hangman, Judas’s crew had no chance.

“I should think you’ll not assault a woman again without knowing who she is and the extent of her firepower,” Celia murmured. She felt Dunham start. “Aye. He grabbed me and kissed me like some common whore.”

“No, wench,” Judas growled. “No common whore, I see now.”

Celia sucked up a breath, then glared at the Hollander when he laughed.

“Sheathe your weapons, Judas,” Dunham commanded, “an’ you an’ yer crew be on yer way. You got yer kiss an’ she got ’er fight, so ’tis a draw. You can hash this out at sea. I wanna enjoy me time ashore with me protégée.”

“I’m sure,” Judas drawled as he put his weapons away and sneered at her. “Your protégée.” He turned and stalked out of the tavern, his crew following reluctantly.

“Well, me girl,” Dunham chuckled as they watched him leave. “I doonna know where ye’ve been in the last year that ye’ve’na crossed paths with Judas—bloody hell, even I’ve heard of him all the way’t the Holy Land, wagin’ his own war on King George. No’ payin’ attention, are ye?”

Celia’s mouth tightened and her eyes narrowed on her former captain.

“Aye, and make no mistake, either. Now he’s gotcha in his sights. Whether to bed ye or kill ye, I canna say, but it dinna look like ye’d object to bein’ bedded.” He paused, then slid her a significant glance. “I’d not object should ye bed him.”

To that she replied with great precision, “Rafael Covarrubias.”

Dunham’s humor vanished, his facing flushing bright red. “Ye gods, woman!” he roared. “You dare speak that man’s name to me?!”

“You are as predictable as the sun, Cap’n,” she said with a sweet smile. “Makes one wonder how you’ve escaped the hangman’s noose this long.”

He cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed, “Rum’s on Jack tonight, lads! Tell the port!” She heaved an annoyed sigh, and he grinned at her. “What’s ’at, Whelp?”

She should have known better than to engage in a battle of wits with the man who’d made a commander out of her.

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If you don’t want to wait 2 years to get to the end, you can buy it here.

Pirates!